Only You
by k8ebug
Summary: Mutual feelings of dislike between Hermione and Draco develop into something much nicer, and much unexpected.
1. Chapter One First Day Back

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Chapter One- First Day Back

Hermione Granger made her way down the long stone stairway of the entrance hall, yawning tiredly. The huge oak doors of the Great Hall stood open and waiting to welcome the students of Hogwarts to their first morning meal of the year. The newest Head Girl entered the hall and sank into a chair at the Gryffindor table. She looked around the immense room, which was mercifully quiet. _I knew I shouldn't have stayed up so late_, Hermione thought. She yawned again, then picked up a menu card and eyed it.

"Strawberry crêpes, please, with a bit of cream on the side," she said clearly to her plate. Immediately, three perfect crêpes appeared before her.

"Only you, Granger," someone sneered. Hermione looked up coldly, her eyes meeting the glittering gaze of Draco Malfoy.

"Stuff it, Ferret-Face," replied Hermione, looking away. "It's too early for this."

"Ooh, did someone stay up too late?" asked Malfoy, fake concern oozing from his words. "Consorting with Potty and the Weasel, perhaps?" Hermione gritted her teeth, picked up her knife and fork, and began sawing intently on a strawberry. To Hermione's great relief, the subjects of Malfoy's last question entered the hall, looking at the Slytherin with matching expressions of disgust.

"What do _you_ want, Malfoy?" Ron asked irritably leave 'Mione alone."

"Just leaving," sneered Malfoy, "though I ought to remind you to be kinder to your Head Boy. House points are oh-so-easily subtracted…" Malfoy trailed off, smirking, turned on his heel, and crossed the hall.

"Yeah, yeah, rave on," Ron scowled after Malfoy. "Like I could give a flying rat's arse about what _he_ can do."

"So, 'Mione," Harry started, attempting to lighten the mood. He and Ron sat and scanned menu cards, each ordering bangers and mash with brown gravy.

"Urgh, how can you eat all that _now_?" Hermione groaned as heaping servings of steaming sausage and potatoes appeared before her friends. "My room is great," she informed Harry. "The entrance portrait, to the common room you know, Is on the fourth floor. The common room is done in a geometric-y design. The chairs are really comfortable! There's loads of bookshelves, too! One of them has a shelf that you tap with your wand and say exactly what you're looking to read. The book appears just like that! No poking through the library or anything! Anyway, my room is protected by a special charm that'll keep anyone but myself or a teacher from going inside, unless they have my permission. Makes me feel safer to know that Malfoy can't get in there.

"I have my own bathtub, like the prefect's bathroom, with scented water and other amenities. the bedroom has loads of space just for being in! It's huge, with a mirror that give," she giggled, "beauty tips!"

_Like she needs them_, thought Ron, looking at his plate. Hermione rushed on.

"The bed is really comfy, too. The whole room is, really. It's all done in autumn colors. Percy sent me and owl of congratulations," she paused as Harry and Ron sniggered, "What? Anyway, _he _says that the colors change with the seasons! How d'you suppose he knows? Do you think it's the same in the boy's rooms?" 

She glanced over at the Slytherin table. Malfoy's eyes shimmered at her over his goblet of pumpkin juice, which he raised, as if toasting her. Hermione shuddered and looked away. _I hope I never find out_, she thought. 

"Today, you will be doing a review session of your last six years here. You will transfigure a book into a loaf of bread and a desk into a chair and back again. After that, if you haven't made too much of a mess," Professor McGonagall's eyes flicked to Neville Longbottom, who blushed and looked down at his desk, "then you will transfigure a bowler hat into a turtle." The majority of the class groaned, but Hermione just cleared off her desk and sat straighter in her chair.

Ron leaned over to Hermione. "What's the incantation for turtles again?" he whispered urgently. Hermione glared at him.

"You are supposed to _know_ that!" she hissed. Ron made a puppy face, his freckles spoiling the effect only slightly. "Fine," Hermione sighed. She reached for a piece of parchment, but her hand brushed something soft and furry. That something had very pointy teeth.

"Owch!" Hermione yelped as the teeth nipped her finger.

"_What_ is the problem, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall queried severely. Hermione blushed and sat down.

"It was a cat, I think, Professor," she answered, looking at the floor. A pair of bright, golden eyes stared back at her from inside of her knapsack.

Back in her room now, after classes, Hermione sat on her bed with Hermione and Ron, petting an unruly lump of brown-and-grey striped fur. It yawned and stretched before rising to its feet and jumping lightly to the floor, sniffing everything within reach. 

"So McGonagall said it doesn't belong to anyone?" Ron asked Hermione.

"_He_ doesn't belong to anyone," Hermione said. "We aren't sure where he came from."

"What are you going to call him?" Harry inquired.

"I'm not sure," Hermione replied, fidgeting with a strand of her brown hair. "I was thinking about 'Ashes,' since he looks like he's rolled in them."

"I'm sure whatever you choose will be perfect," Ron told her. Hermione looked at him sharply. Ron blushed and looked away. Harry, noticing the tension, invited Ron to leave Hermione to dress for dinner. The two boys left, Ron glancing furtively back at Hermione, who pretended not to notice.

Putting the gangly red-head out of her mind, Hermione focused on the at who was now perched on a windowsill, watching the grounds below with great interest.

"How does 'Ashes' sound to you, kitty?" Hermione asked.

"Prrt?" The cat turned to her. He seemed to be asking her to repeat the question.

"'Ashes.' How does that sound as a name? For you," Hermione explained.

The cat leapt lightly to the floor and crossed to the bed, hopping straight into Hermione's lap. He purred indulgently and rubbed against her hands.

"Ashes it is," Hermione agreed.


	2. Chapter Two Outburst!

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Chapter Two- Outburst

Hermione returned to her portrait hole to find an enormous orange tomcat pacing in front of it. the girl in the picture laughed gaily down at the animal as she wove herself a daisy chain.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione exclaimed. "Where have you been, naughty kitty, running off like that? Come see your new rooms!" Hermione picked up her cat, who only blinked in response to her gentle scolding. "Socrates," she said to the daisy girl, and entered her common room as the portrait swung open.

As soon as Crookshanks spotted Ashes curled comfortably in a squashy armchair, his hackles rose slightly and a low growl sounded deep in his throat. He leapt hard from Hermione's arms and trotted purposefully up to the chair where Ashes slept. Crookshanks jumped quietly onto an arm of the chair ready to strike, should the other cat awaken.

Used to simply intimidating whomever he came across, Crookshanks was rather unpleasantly surprised when Ashes opened his eyes, stretched out a paw, and bopped the older cat right on the nose! Crookshanks scrambled backward in alarm and fell off of the chair onto the floor in a very undignified manner. Radiating wounded pride, the cat stalked to the far side of the commons and began to wash himself thoroughly, acting as though nothing at all had happened.

Hermione jumped when an amused laugh rose from another chair. Malfoy. She hadn't even noticed he was in the room, but the laugh surprised her even more. She looked at him closely, studying the icy blonde hair and steel blue-grey eyes, lit now with amusement. His delicate, pale features were almost handsome when he wasn't being nasty, Hermione realized.

"What are you looking at, Granger?" Malfoy drawled. Hermione crossed to her dormitory entrance and looked back at the Slytherin.

"I don't think I've ever heard you really laugh before," she remarked, and entered her own room.

Draco Malfoy sat at his desk, lost in thought, all previous intentions of focusing on homework long forgotten. _Never heard me laugh before?_ he thought angrily. _Not like I've had much to laugh at, and anyway, what's a filthy mudblood know about laughing?_ Even to himself it sounded stupid.

Draco brought his hand down on the solid wood below his arm, making his quill jump. He had to admit, it was getting really hard to think of her as something dirty, meant to be beneath him, especially when she walked in looking like_ that_. She was always so organized and neat, good at everything except Quidditch and- Draco grinned to himself- Divination. 

Hermione seemed to have grown into her hair, which was less bushy than in past years, and her genuine smile with straight, now even teeth, was truly attractive. Her clear brown eyes had a certain glow in them that always made him feel like she could see his thoughts. Draco smiled inwardly again. She'd certainly developed quite a figure! 

But how could he think of her that way? If he ever said anything to his 'friends' in Slytherin, he'd be ruined! His father would certainly find out and cause, quite literally, a painful scene. Still, Draco couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to curl up with her in front of a fire, with gentle music in the background, to run his fingers through her long, silky hair, and to say her name…

"Hermione," he whispered into the quiet of his room. Draco shivered and returned to his homework, dipping an eagle feather quill into his ink pot. Her name echoed in his mind long into the night.

Hermione crossed the lush green lawn in front of the castle to greenhouse number three for her first Herbology lesson of the year. To her great dismay, she opened the door to find that this year, the class would be taken with the Slytherins. Due to schedule changes, it seemed that Gryffindor now had Potions with Ravenclaw, Care of Magical Creatures with Hufflepuff, and to make Hermione's day that much better, Herbology with the serpent-house.

"Today chaps, we'll be working with the very venomous DeVille aphid. Can anyone tell me what they are and who discovered them?" asked Professor Sprout. Neville Longbottom raised his hand.

"Neville?" called Professor Sprout.

"This oughtta be good," muttered someone behind Hermione. She turned and glared at Malfoy who was sniggering behind his hand.

"The Deville aphid was discovered by Gloriana DeVille in 1854. It was at first thought only to reside in dense sections of the African Congo, but was later found in parts of England, Scotland, and Ireland, showing its remarkable adaptations to temperature variation," he paused and glanced at the Professor, who motioned him to continue.

"This insect is very poisonous to humans and other animals, but its venom is necessary in the maturing process of the Mandrian Begonia, found only in wizarding communities in great Britain. The aphid is attracted to bright colors and irregularly shaped objects. If injured the DeVille aphid magically re-grows or repairs its injury. It becomes irritated when subjected to loud noise."

"Thank you Neville!" Professor Sprout exclaimed cheerfully. "I'm quite impressed! Fifteen points to Gryffindor!" Hermione turned triumphantly to Malfoy who glared sullenly at her.

"I will divide you into pairs for this exercise," Professor Sprout announced. "You will stun the aphids and remove their venom sacs, which we will use to make a substance that can be administered t the castle Begonias. I'm sure you all see the hazards of letting venomous insects loose on the ground. I assure you, the aphids will feel no pain," Professor Sprout assured Lavender, who had paled. "This procedure is in absolute accordance with the Animal Rights Act of 1312. Now, as I call your name, _quietly _join up with your partner. Weasley, Parkinson…Potter, Zabini…Patil, Bulstrode…Finnegan, Smith…Granger, Malfoy…" Hermione groaned, but turned obediently to Malfoy, whose face was contorted in a look of horror.

Everyone shuffled to desks placed throughout the greenhouse, many partners glaring at each other with intense distaste. On each desk was a cage about the size of a shoebox swarming with black and yellow bugs about as big around as a Knut. The students eyed their respective cages warily.

"Now, I am very well aware of the…erm…animosity between your two houses, and I warn you now, I will not tolerate any arguing or disruption from any o you. Any infraction of the rules will result in a detention. There are many dangerous critters living in this room. Horseplay is potentially life-threatening. Is this understood? Oh, and do watch out for the Tarantacula," she gestured to a large purplish plant behind her. "It's carnivorous and will be inclined to nibble on any flesh tossed its way."

The squat professor looked around. "Please don your dragonhide gloves and begin!" she directed, flapping her arms. There was a flurry of activity, and soon the room was filled with whispers of _"Stupefy!"_ as students stunned their aphids, trying assiduously not to disturb their venomous charges.

"How could she do this?" moaned Malfoy, stunning a handful of aphids.

"Be quiet!" hissed Hermione. "A, you'll get us in trouble. B, you'll excite the bugs!"

"Don't tell me what to do, Mudblood," growled Malfoy.

"No! You're doing it wrong!" Hermione snatched the tiny scalpel Malfoy held and flipped his stunned aphid onto its back. "You cut it _here_!" She made an infinitesimal cut just behind the aphid's front legs. Then, very carefully, she removed a tiny, iridescent sac with a tiny metal hook especially charmed not to puncture the fragile container of poisonous fluid. She dropped to tiny sac into a glass dish on top of the aphid cage.

"See?" she whispered haughtily. "Like that. Now you try." Malfoy recovered the scalpel and made an incision in the next aphid.

"Why d'ya have to be such a god damn know-it-all?" Malfoy complained. "I can do this by myse-"

"Shhh! The professor's coming!" Professor Sprout approached Malfoy and Hermione's desk.

"What a splendid job you're doing, Mr. Malfoy! I'm very impressed. Take two points for Slytherin. You do that remarkably well," praised Professor Sprout.

"I learned from the best, Professor," Malfoy sneered, looking at Hermione. To his immense surprise, Hermione simply shrugged.

__

Ha! she thought. _Let him figure_ that _one out!_ Annoyed at not having received a reaction from Hermione, Malfoy began sloppily cutting into more aphids.

"I'll cut, you get the sac. I don't want to spend any more time on this than necessary." he growled.

"Oh, but Malfoy!" Hermione said sweetly. "You do this so _well_!" Malfoy flushed in anger.

"You-" he was cut off by a nervous-looking Neville.

"You guys, you're disturbing your aphids! Be careful not to get bit-" now he was cut off by a very angry Malfoy.

"Bugger off, Longbottom," Malfoy said turning to him and glaring.

"But what if-" Neville tried again. Malfoy snatched the collar of Neville's robes, pulling him closer.

"I said," he snarled through gritted teeth, "bugger off!" He shoved the other boy away, sending him reeling into none other than the Tarantacula, which quickly began wrapping long magenta tendrils around him, snapping vines.

"Aaaaaaugh!" shrilled Neville, struggling with the large bush. Professor Sprout hurried over to release Neville from the writhing plant. The class watched in disbelief as Malfoy stalked out of the greenhouse, slamming the door behind him.

"The aphids!" gasped Hermione, and the room was a sudden whirl of hurried stunning spells.

"I just can't believe he did that!" Hermione exclaimed to Ron as they walked down to dinner. "He made me so angry!"

"I know, 'Mione," Ron said soothingly. "Try not to let it bother you. He's probably got a load of detentions! How's Neville?" he asked.

"Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me see him. All she'd say was that 'He's recovering,'" she replied with a sigh.

"I'm sure he is, then. That woman can heal anything!" Ron laughed. Hermione smiled weakly.

When the student body was finally seated, Dumbledore rang for the food to be served, and the hall buzzed with chatter. Many of the younger students were delighted to her of Malfoy's dangerous outburst earlier in the day. Hermione glanced at him once during the meal and he met her eyes sullenly before elbowing Crabbe out of his plate.

As the noise in the Hall lowered, Dumbledore stood. "I hope you all enjoyed your meal. I'm afraid now is the time you must toddle off to your common rooms, with the exception of the Head Boy and Girl. Thank you." Everyone except Hermione and Malfoy leapt up from their seats and poured out of the Great Hall, departing in large groups, laughing and chatting. 

Only after the rest of the school had departed did Hermione rise and approach the Head Table apprehensively. Only Dumbledore and Professor Sprout remained. When Malfoy finally stood beside his female counterpart, Dumbledore spoke.

"Mr. Malfoy, it is not often that I am this disappointed in a Hogwarts' student. Mr. Longbottom is now recovering in the hospital from several cuts and bites sustained by the Tarantacula, and two DeVille aphid bites from insects that were startled by your noisy loss of temper. As a result of your direct disobedience of Professor Sprouts directions, you will receive a detention courtesy of out Herbology Professor. At your head-of-house's suggestion, Mr. Malfoy, I have decided that Miss Granger will," he paused and cleared his throat, "accompany you on your assignment."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You can't be serious! That low-down dirty asshole gets Neville hurt, and you get in trouble?"

"No thanks to Snape," Hermione spat bitterly. "So, I'm stuck going out tomorrow night with Malfoy, of all people…into the Forbidden Forest, no less. At least it's a Saturday night tomorrow. I still can't believe this!"

"You better get some rest, 'Mione," Ron said. "Let me walk you to your room." Harry's sudden coughing fit sounded extremely similar to disguised sniggering.

"Um…" said Hermione.

"I insist," pressed Ron, jumping to his feet. They exited the room together, Ron holding the portrait open for her as she stepped out into the drafty corridor. Awkward silence ensued as the pair walked through the relatively quiet halls. When Hermione and Ron finally reached the daisy portrait, Ron paused.

"Something wrong?" Hermione asked.

"Um, no," Ron answered. "But…could I, um, come in? Id like to um, talk to you."

__

Oh dear, Hermione thought, but she let him into the common room. "Do you want to sit down?" she offered, patting the seat on the sofa next to her. Ron sat.

"Um, 'Mione, I've been thinking…I really like you, and, um, well…" he paused, gulped, then inched closer to her. "Well, um…well…" He shut his eyes, then leaned forward suddenly and pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione nearly fell of the couch in shock. When he pulled away, she straightened. "Wow, Ron. I, er, had no idea you felt that way," she said tentatively.

"Do you think that you'd go out with me?" Ron asked apprehensively.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "I- I'm sorry, Ron, but I don't like you th- that way," she stammered. Ron's face fell.

"S'okay," he muttered. "I understand. I guess, I'd better leave then. Tell Ashes- and Crookshanks –I said hi," he finished lamely. Ron rose and left without looking back.

Hermione slipped miserably into her room, changing into nightclothes with a wave of her wand. She crawled beneath the covers on her bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. _So much for rest_, she thought, absently petting Ashes. Crookshanks entered later (the portrait and charm on her door had been altered to let the cats in and out) and circled the bed once before hopping onto the windowsill, starlight spilling over his fur. Try as she might, Hermione didn't drift into unconsciousness until several hours later.


	3. Detention!

Chapter Three- Detention

Most of the castle awoke cheerfully Friday morning, but then, most of the castle hadn't been kept awake all night by miserable, self-pitying thoughts. Hermione was jerked rudely to consciousness by a loud knocking at her door.

"Hermione!" the voice was distinctly male, and it sounded very much like… Hermione jumped out of bed and ran hand sleepily through her hair.

"What?" she asked abruptly, opening the door. Malfoy leaned casually against the doorframe. 

"We have class in two minutes, Granger. Are you coming, or what?"

"Oh my lord!" Hermione gasped. With a cry, she turned and raced into her bathroom, leaving Malfoy in the door. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and with a simple spell, her hair was devoid of any flyways. Casting another spell to change her clothing, Hermione rushed out into her bedroom, hurrying to collect her knapsack and quills from her desk. 

"Took you long enough," Malfoy drawled, no crouching in the door, petting Ashes, who languished on the floor in ecstasy beneath his fingertips.

"You didn't have to wait," Hermione pointed out. Malfoy stood up and strode out into the common room, where he held the portrait open for Hermione, who brushed past him.

"Why are you being anything resembling nice to me?" she queried curiously. "Wouldn't you like to see the Mudblood in trouble?" 

"I was being stupid and got you in trouble, as well as myself. I figured I should work on my attitude," Malfoy said, and unreadable expression on his face.

"Oh, so the ice-man feels remorse after all!" Hermione exclaimed in fake shock. Malfoy's deadpan expression melted quickly into an irritated scowl.

"I have to turn here," he said turning down another passageway. Hermione paused in her pilgrimage to Potions class to watch Malfoy stride away down the dark corridor. He moved with surprising grace, she noted. Glancing at her watch, Hermione grimaced: she'd have to run to make it to class on time.

Hermione slid into her seat just as the bell rang. Snape swept in moments later, robes billowing at his sides, to begin their lecture on aging draughts. Scribbling notes, furiously, Hermione focused on the lesson, not looking at anyone. By the end of the lesson, she'd filled up two entire rolls of parchment. Blowing gently on the ink, Hermione listened intently as Snape announced the homework.

"I want one roll of parchment on the uses of aging draughts, completed by Monday, when you will hand it in. Class dismissed," he gestured towards the door and as the class rushed off for their break, Snape sank tiredly into his chair. Hermione watched him for a moment.

"Did I miss something Granger? I said that class was dismissed," he hissed.

"Just packing my bag, Professor," Hermione answered looking away. She could tell something was wrong but didn't have the courage to ask about it. Forgetting about Snape, Hermione rushed from the dungeons to the Entrance Hall, and from there to the library where she planned to get a head start on her Potions essay. 

She entered the library and was immediately immersed in the scent of old leather and paper as she made her way to the back of the library where she spread her materials over a section of a large wooden table. Hermione read over her notes, muttering to herself, before jumping up and moving quietly to a bookshelf near the back corner of the library. She ran her fingers over several gleaming leather covers before pausing on a crimson book with gold leaf lettering.

"Practical Potions, by Unita Caldrun," Hermione read to herself. She flicked the cover open and ran her finger down a table of contents. "Topical Potions, Potions for Appliances, Potions for your pet, Problem-Solving Potions, Potions for the Baby, Potions for the bedroom," Hermione laughed to herself, "Potions for Health, Potions for beauty! Here we are!" Hermione flipped to page 358 and found the section titled "Aging Potions." 

These potions are useful in situations where one must either look older, or one wishes to appear to be aging gracefully. Waxwing flies, the yolk of a Zairian chicken, and a sprig of properly aged bubbleweed can be interchanged in varying amounts to achieve various stages of age. This mixture was first discovered… Hermione stood at the bookshelf, lost in the text of the book. 

"I should have known," a figure approached Hermione. It was Malfoy. Hermione looked up at him scowling. Malfoy snatched the book from Hermione's gentle grasp. He looked at the chapter she was reading. "Only you, Granger. Do you ever quit?" he smirked.

"Give it back, Malfoy," Hermione demanded angrily, holding out a slender hand.

"Why should I?" I need to take a peek at some information…this book might be just what I need. Thanks Granger." He started to turn from her, making like he was going to walk away.

"I mean it! Give the book back or I'll-" Malfoy cut her off.

"You'll what?" he asked nastily.

"I know some pretty revolting curses, Malfoy," Hermione warned.

"And you'd actually use them on me?" Malfoy sneered. "The Mudblood breaks rules? How shocking. I'm scarred for life. I expect my father would have something to say about you cursing me…"

"I'm not scared of your high-and-mighty father!" Hermione shot back, "And I break more rules than you might think!"

"What kind of rules?" Malfoy advanced on her. Hermione backed away, straight into the corner. Malfoy pressed forward until his face was mere inches from hers. Hermione looked up into his steely eyes and saw something there she couldn't describe. Then-

"Get off her, Malfoy," challenged a voice. Hermione looked past Malfoy and saw Ron standing near the corner of the bookshelf she had backed into.

"We're only chatting, Weasley," Malfoy drawled. "Something wrong with that?" Ron looked ready to tear Malfoy into tiny pieces.

"Leave it, Ron," Hermione pleaded. "Please." Ron sighed but nodded and released his fists which had been curled at his sides. Hermione yanked the book back from Malfoy's grasp, ducked under his arm, and stalked past him, collecting her parchment and knapsack from the table. After checking the book out from the library, Hermione headed to transfiguration, accompanied by a very protective-looking Ron Weasley.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Even Neville managed to refrain from any significant mishaps. By dinnertime, Hermione had finished all of her homework. She ate a light dinner and headed off to bed, hoping to get a nap before her late-night detention.

Hermione waited anxiously at the door of Greenhouse One, also Professor Sprout's office. the night sky glittered with stars, and a cool, gentle breeze brushed past. Two people approached from Hermione's left, one tall and slim, one short and compact.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," Professor Sprout said cheerily.

"Hullo, Professor," Hermione answered quickly. Malfoy now stood next to her his arm brushing hers. It radiated slight warmth, a sensation Hermione wasn't sure if she liked or not. Very odd, she thought.

"Your task tonight is to gather five dozen Mulberry slugs…apiece. I will supply you with gloves and containers. If you will step into my office, please…" the professor tapped the gleaming metal doorknob with her wand, unlocking the door, and beckoned the two students inside.

After receiving a covered wooden pail and special anti-slime charmed gloves each, Hermione and Draco stepped out into the pleasant night air. The moon poured a bright light down onto the lush grass of the sweeping front lawn. 

"How's the book, Granger?" Draco asked in a not-so-nice way.

"Informative," Hermione answered plainly.

"Hmm." Draco walked silently at the girl's side. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as they neared the dark trees of the Forbidden Forest. Her hair was sleek and shiny in the pale light of the moon and stars. Her eyes were focused levelly ahead, her nose turned up ever so slightly in a very cute sort of manner. Her mouth was parted in a silent sigh. Was she enjoying the night? Was she looking forward to this assignment? It seemed like a very Hermione style of thing. Five dozen slugs each. Gods, this was going to be long night. 

After a few minutes of noiseless treading of a narrow path, Hermione turned abruptly into a clearing a few yards from the visible course parting the immense trees. Draco stood in the center of the clearing, gazing around with an expression of polite-like distaste in his icy stare. He glanced at his watch. Only 10:37. He was stuck here until 7:30 the next morning. Hell, only seven hours and twenty-three minutes to go. How many seconds was that? Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Professor Sprout said the slugs eat wild ivy and mulberry, correct?" Hermione asked. Then, answering herself, "Yes. Well, I think I see a few bushes of ivy over there. I'm going to take a look." She moved smoothly away past the trees. Draco looked up to the sky. Only the very edge of the moon shone over the treetops. After a short reverie, Draco's trance-like state was halted by a series of loud crashing noises accompanied by a shrill cry.

"Help! Draco! Help!" Hermione's voice was laden with fear. An icy feeling came over the boy. He thrust himself through a hedge and his eyes met a terrible sight. Hermione dangled upside down, held in the unrelenting grasp of a giant spider. One foreleg was curled around Hermione's body, moving the girl closer and closer to its gleaming pincers. Hermione struggled to reach her wand, but was quickly losing strength. Draco yanked his own wand from his robe pocket and pointed the spider's leg.

"Incendio!" he cried. Immediately, golden flames rose at the top of the leg. The spider made a noise resembling one of pain and dropped Hermione, who landed in a heap on the forest floor.

"Immobilius!" Draco shouted. The spider barely flinched, but turned towards Draco and danced crazily around, eyeing him, and nearly embedding Hermione in the ground. Draco noticed this and picked up a rock, which he chucked at the spider, shouting insults and moving across the clearing, trying to draw the spider away from Hermione. The spider followed Draco angrily, readying itself to strike. 

As the spider neared, Draco looked around, trying desperately to think of something that could help him. No tree branches were close enough to the ground for him to climb, no spells came to his mind. The spider was right in front of him now. Draco could see each of its beady, black eyes, the coarse dark hair that coated its body, the pincers, poised to give a fatal blow.

"Avada Kedavra!" came a faint voice. Hermione! thought Draco as a flash of green light hit the spider. The tremendous arachnid screamed once and collapsed. Draco barely had time to leap out of the way of one of its legs as the spider fell.

Draco hurried past the lifeless spider to Hermione, who lay limp on the ground, her eyes closed.

"Hermione!" Draco gasped, dropping to his knees. He tugged her robes away from her face and tousled hair, then stroked her face with a finger. Hermione's eyes opened slowly, a smile ghosting on her mouth.

"Did it work?" she queried weakly.

"Yeah, but Hermione! That was dark magic! How did-? Where did you…"

"Barty Junior, fourth year," Hermione explained softly.

"You'll be in deep shit for this, Hermione. You stupid Mudblood!" Draco groaned.

"I did it to save your life. You saved mine," she pointed out.

"That – That's not the point! I'm not worth it, Granger," Draco growled fiercely. Hermione sat up.

"I think you are," Hermione explained simply, and slid her arms around his neck.

"Thank you." Draco looked deep into her eyes, noticing for the first time the gold that flecked her the rich brown. "I was so scared when I heard…" he trailed off. Draco tensed as Hermione leaned against him, then relaxed and stroked her back gently. Hermione quivered slightly.

"Are you cold?" Draco asked, concerned.

"No, it's just…" Hermione looked up at him. Slowly, Draco lowered his face and brushed his lips softly against hers. 

Hermione sighed with deep contentment as Draco pulled reluctantly away. Draco rested his head on Hermione's hair and breathed in the scent. She smelled of Jasmine and moonlight. Perfect.


End file.
